Dog Days
by Student of Dreams
Summary: After being exonerated and released, Will is trying to put his life back together. He didn't expect that life to include trusting another person, even said person is Captain America. Will/Steve.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is written in response to a prompt over at HannibalKink. I didn't want to post this in parts so if the ending of this section seems odd, please remember that it was written to be a complete fic, I know it ends on an imcomplete note here but it'll flow on with the next bit.

This chapter and the next were written together a while ago. The updates after that might be a while coming as I need to get back into the swing of the story. I'm hoping that by cross-posting it here I will get some good feedback and some suggestions as to what I can include which will get my muse back onto this story.

Please Enjoy

**Dog Days**

Like the best things in Will's life, it had involved dogs.

Maybe he smelt like his dogs at home, or perhaps lost dogs recognized him as a kindred spirit, but all dogs liked him. It was lucky that the feeling was mutual and that most dogs took far less time to warm up to Will than his fellow humans seemed to.

It had been the first time since being released from prison that Will had gone sleepwalking, which was a miracle in itself. He woke on the damp ground, shivering and sniffling as the frosted breeze made his nose run and ears ache. He had sweated through a shirt, and some of the moisture there had crystallized in the dawn air.

It took a moment for him to realize that he was clutching something warm and furry, something that rose and fell at a steady, comforting pace. There was a dense, unpleasant mud smell, but one comfortingly familiar and he didn't want to open his eyes and break the spell of that small, unsure moment.

He assumed that the warm form was Winston, who followed him out as he had done before.

When he released the canine, Will noticed that the fur was much too short to be Winston's fluffy coat. Maybe, he thought, one of his other companions had followed him, but the smell and the feel of the coat didn't awake the memory of any names.

"Oh," he exclaimed, as he pushed himself up onto his elbow and observed the dog that had stretched out beside him. "Hello."

Even through his gaze was fuzzy without his glasses Will was able to recognize that it was not one of his dogs. Its... _Her_ belly was white, but mattered with mud from lying on the ground all night, with a brown head and back. She was lying patiently still while Will slowly moved to sit up, snuffling the ground where he had been lying as he gave her a thankful scratch behind her ears.

"Where did you come from?" He reached for her collar, and found an identification number and a name. "Thank you for keeping me warm, Peggy," Will smiled. "I appreciate it."

* * *

Will washed Peggy off and placed her in the large cage outside with the other dogs, so they could sniff and get used to her presence before they became friends. He knew more than anyone that social acceptance was difficult, and making friends was harder, so he tried to make the process as easy as possible for everyone.

Peggy, for her part, seemed happy enough in her cage as long as the other dogs were hanging around, sniffing around the edges of her confines, and sticking her nose through the bars to try and be closer to the others.

Carefully watching over them, Will smiled. She would be a wonderful addition to the family; she was patient, not overly affectionate but incredibly caring and friendly. A quick look in a dog-breed book confirmed his suspicion that she was an English Foxhound.

He would have to start leaving the dog-door open when he was at work, so he wouldn't have to worry about such an energetic breed being cooped up in the house. She should be happy with the amount of land he owned.

"_Fairfax County Animal Shelter_, _how may I help you_?"

"Hi Caroline."

"_Will! How have you been? How's Winston?_"

He felt a smile tug at his face as he looked over at the golden dog, who was moving cautiously on his stomach towards the newcomer. "I've been good, and Winston is doing great. He mourned for a while, but he's in good shape."

"_That's good, I was so worried about him, but don't tell me you found another one already._"

"I'm afraid so. Her tag says her name is Peggy." He rattled off her id number.

There was the clacking of keys, "_I'll chase it up and get back to you first thing tomorrow."_

"Thanks Caroline."

"_No problem. You... You look after yourself, okay, Will?_"

"I-I'll... Talk to you later."

Will hung up the phone quickly before he sighed and ran a hand over his face as his other held the phone limo. He and Caroline had never met in person, their only interaction being phone calls about lost dogs, her researching any identification and him looking after the canines until their owners were found.

Or not found.

Still, somehow, she had found out about him and his time in prison. It didn't seem to matter to most that he was innocent, just that he was crazy enough that people believed him guilty of the grotesque crimes.

"Peggy?" Will inquired, reaching out a hand towards the cage. The dog turned at the sound of her name, and reached out to lick the hand offered. "Looks like you'll be staying here overnight, girl."

* * *

Will felt bad that he couldn't keep Peggy in the bedroom with them all, but if there was the possibility she wouldn't be staying then he didn't want the other dogs to get overly attached.

When he'd woken up in a sweat, not an unusual occurrence, he ventured from his bedroom and down the hall. He was glad that the episode of sleepwalking was, for now, an anomaly and he could be awake for the journey.

The inner doors of his house were kept open, so that the dogs could wander freely. He trusted them, but for the night had closed off his lounge, the foxhound carefully contained within.

He poked his head around the door, just wanting to check on her, make sure she was having a better night than he was before he went back to bed.

She was lying on a collection of pillows and blankets, and Will gave a small smile as he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. She looked comfortable and raised her head, whining a little at him in concern. He felt a stab of disapproval at her owner for letting such a lovely girl out of their sight, then felt guilty because they could have been sick, or elderly or dead, and he shouldn't judge.

Not yet, anyway.

Will smiled slightly and closed the door, knowing that the sweat clinging to his t-shirt probably smelt like distress, and wouldn't help the new dog feel like this was a safe place.

Safe. Like a home should feel.

* * *

"_Hi Will, it's Caroline. I guess you're at work, or something. Peggy's address is in New York, but I called her owner and he's in the city for business that's why she's here. I didn't want to give him your number without your permission, but he said I can give you his so just call him whenever your home, okay?_"

* * *

The day had gone like most since he had been released. He was restricted to teaching, the facility forcing him to use old, solved cases as his lecture material and not being allowed near anything new or thought-provoking.

The class seemed to be silently judging him.

Although they were always quiet, as Will didn't like much socializing with or among his students during lectures, there was an extra level of potency. They were applying everything Will had taught them to their lecturer, and Will didn't want to know what conclusions they were making about his mental state.

To cleanse himself of the day, Will had taken the dogs for a walk as soon as he arrived home. It was a routine he used to do in the morning, but since he had returned to work and his problem with sleeping had gotten worse, he was not aware enough when he got out of bed to go for a morning jog. The immediate tending to his dogs as soon as he returned had become a helpful focus to turn his mind away from the world beyond Wolf Trap.

He didn't tend to have an appetite when he was working, but when he got home he failed to grab an apple or protein bar before leashing up the dogs. He was excited to take Peggy out with the others. We hadn't wanted to put them all together unsupervised, so she'd spent the day isolated from them, but being a part of the group walk would help her bond, should she be staying.

Seven dogs in two hands didn't leave much room for them to spread out, and while the others were used to being cosy, Peggy had kept trying to veer away from the pack.

On the way back, she calmed down.

When he arrived home, sweating in a way that didn't quite remind him of restless nights, he looked through his cupboards for a collection of packet foods he could combine for his dinner and checked the messages on his answering-machine.

He paused at the feminine voice that had left a message, who talked about Peggy's owner.

Will rethought his dinner plans, and went for a bottle of whisky instead.

* * *

"_Hello_?"

"I-Is this Steven Rogers?"

"_Please call me 'Steve'. Who's this_?"

"I'm Will Graham, I have your dog Peggy. The animal shelter gave me your number, they said that was okay."

"_I did_. _She disappeared a few days ago and I've been so worried, thank you for looking after her. The girl at the centre said you look after a lot of dogs who don't have a home. I hope they didn't have any problems with Peg_."

"No, not at all. They're used to strange dogs, and she's been perfect."

"_Great_. _She said you were in Wolf Trap, right?_"

"Yeah."

"_I have no idea how she got so far away from me... She must have been so scared_."

"Well, I have her now and she's fine. Are you... Err... D-do you want to come pick her up? I know you're here for business, and if you're too busy I don't mind looking after her for a while."

A sigh; "_Clearly she wasn't happy with where we're staying... Are you sure you wouldn't mind? I'll pay you for it; I don't want you to be out of pocket buying food for her or anything_."

"That's not really necessary."

"_Well, we should meet first. I know you've already had Peg for a night, but I'd feel better if I got to know you a little before she stays with you._"

"Oh... Umm... I-I suppose I can understand that. I... yeah, s-sure."

* * *

Will kept the beanie over his head and pulled down over his ears to protect it from the autumn wind. He had brought Peggy, Winston and Bailey with him, as he knew Steve would probably want to see her again if he'd been as worried as he sounded on the phone. Winston and Bailey were the ones who seemed the closest to Peggy and Will hoped that seeing the three of them happily playing together might help Steve feel safer letting her stay with Will.

It was fairly quiet at the dog-park, not many people were willing to sit in such cold weather and just watch their dogs. Most sane people would be jogging alongside them, keeping warm themselves.

He didn't know how long he'd waited before a hand on his shoulder startled him.

Will automatically flinched away from the contact. He had been staring at the dogs, trying to focus on their movements and joy, forcing his mind not to wander into any other territory.

"Hi. Sorry to startle you."

The FBI consultant glanced at bright blue eyes before his gaze darted away. It landed on a strong jaw, then board chest, and settled on a clump of trees just beyond the other's form.

"No. It's fine." He frowned. "Are you Steve Rogers?"

"I am. You must be Mr. Graham."

Will blinked at the extended hand for a moment and cleared his throat. "Y-yes. It's Will, but yes." He stammered as wiped his hands on his pants before accepting the hand-shake.

Steve's hand was warm, despite the cold day, and firm. It felt like a grip from a corny movie with someone being heaved up and off a cliff. It felt like a grip that could never let go.

Will withdrew his hand quickly, conscious of how sweaty it must have felt, and turned away and back to the dogs.

"That's Bailey. That's Winston."

The three appeared to be playing a form of tag, or relay race. He heard a soft laugh behind him from Steve.

"She looks happy." He moved into the side of Will's vision. "Peg doesn't get to play with other dogs much. My housemates love her and she's never alone, but I don't get out to parks very often. She's more of a people dog."

"My dogs are used to welcoming strangers; I've never had any territorial or alpha issues with any of them. Everyone's getting on really well with Peggy. She's a good dog."

"How many dogs do you have?"

Will swallowed down n 'eight' before it could be spoken. He'd only had Peggy for a night. "I have seven. All different breeds. I guess I have a tendency to pick up strays."

"Do you live alone?"

"I have all the company I need." Will stated, feeling a bit defensive about the question. He was better of by himself, he'd always thought that. After a quick moment he remembered that the man was most likely just worried about leaving his dog in Wills company. "I look after the dogs by myself, but they are _well_ looked after. I just... I don't have much of a social life, so when I'm not at work I'm with them."

Will glanced at Steve, crossing his arms against the cold and third degree. "So, why did you take her on a business trip? Couldn't your housemates have looked after her?"

He looked up at Steve's face, seeing something defensive but not entirely hurt in his eyes before Will shied away from the bigger man's emotion.

It was clear to Will that Steve really cared for Peggy, and already felt guilty enough that she had run from him. He could understand why Steve would want her close; if he had only one dog he might do the same when he travelled interstate for crime scenes Then again, he had let her run.

He almost chuckled. For all his empathy, he couldn't feel sorry for Steve. He felt too much for Peggy to offer him any forgiveness just yet.

"I didn't think she'd have such a problem with it." Steve explained, clearly sensing the hostility in Will. "We're staying on a military base, and I guess all the people were just too much for her. I'm a little over protective and she's been sheltered, but she's strong."

"She is." Will agreed softly, as he watched her jump over the much smaller Bailey.

Occasionally, she would glance over at the two humans, keeping them in her sight as she played. It was clear that Peggy knew that Steve was standing close-by, but didn't want to come over until he gave his permission. It was a sign of good training, and Will felt a little bubble of approval for the dog owner standing beside him.

Peggy's good and gentle nature, her cautious care, was a reflection of her owner.

Will looked up so he could study Steve properly while the taller man looked out at the dogs, unaware of the special-agent's eyes on him. He had a strong face, one that seemed to reflect a great strength from within. He held himself with confidence, but not arrogance, and with a shade of self-doubt in his eyes. And pain, Will was loath to find, in the lines between his eyebrows.

"Do you think she's upset with me?"

Will huffed a laugh. "Maybe she thinks you're upset with her." He found himself giving the other a genuine smile, something that felt odd and hysterical on his face, even though it was a normal, regular expression on most. "Why don't you call her over and see?"

Steve looked over at Will's smile and gave a shy one of his own before looking back out to Peggy.

He whistled, and Peggy dropped everything she was doing and bolted towards the blond man.

Although she was a decent sized dog, when she launched herself at her owner, Steve was able to hold her to his chest as if she was a third the size.

His smile was like looking at the sun, too bright, and Will had to look away, down to the arms of the soft leather jacket holding Peggy.

It wasn't until he felt a wet lap at his face that the special-agent looked back up. Peggy was leaning over from Steve's arms to taste his face, and Will could see the gleeful expression on the other man's face beyond the canine snout.

"She seems to like you."

* * *

Will was thrilled that Steve had allowed Peggy to stay with him. The downside being that the man Will assumed was a soldier wanted to check in every now and again, which was a level of casual social interaction that he was not familiar or comfortable with.

But Will couldn't deny the man access to his dog, so an arrangement was made.

Steve had agreed to drive out to Will's house after the teacher finished work, to walk Peggy while Will walked the seven others dogs. Whether they would walk together remained to be seen, but the ex-agent hoped that they would not. He needed that time to be away from people, to not think about people and the horrors that they could create.

He didn't mention Steve or his temporary charge to anyone at work. He knew it was not important enough to hide, but the thought of his two worlds mixing made him feel nauseated. Will's dogs were his salvation and, throughout the day, Will had begun to realize that Steve, even though they had only had a brief meeting, had become an extension of that.

Also, it was nice having secrets that didn't pertain to murder or hallucinations. Or both.

Not that he had much contact with people lately. Occasionally Jack would poke his head into his class, or Hannibal would call to check up on him. Will had made it very clear that intervention from either of them was unwelcome. He didn't trust Jack anymore, and Hannibal... Well, Will didn't know what to think about Hannibal. He knew something had happened between them, something that sent off Will's warning signals, ones that told him not to make eye contact, not to trust and not to talk, but he couldn't remember the days which surrounded his capture.

The only person he really allowed to talk to him was Alana, but those conversations were stilted and awkward. He wasn't sure what was happening between them, all he knew was that there was something, but she was hot and cold, and, generally, that just meant Will was always left felt empty.

Part of Will suspected that she thought all his brokenness would be cured along with his brain; that he would just have to trust her again, and he would be... unbroken enough for her.

He knew on some level she didn't believe it. _She_ probably knew she didn't believe it, but he didn't like disappointing her.

Steve didn't want anything from Will other than a place for his dog to stay. It was something he could easily provide, but even if he couldn't, he didn't think it would be disappointing Steve in any manner.

Steve was someone who didn't know him. Maybe he could sense something off about Will, as the profiler didn't know how anyone couldn't, but he didn't know the extent of Will's problems, or look at him like he was about to snap.

Yet, it made Will nervous, as he didn't know anything about the man he was going to spend the afternoon with. Steve seemed simple, uncomplicated, and the more Will thought about him the more he started looking forward to getting to know the blond.

When he got home, Will had a moment of panic standing in his lounge. There was dog hair everywhere, and the usual dog smell which he didn't really notice anymore but knew was there. He had an hour before Steve would arrive, and he opened all his doors and windows to let the brisk air inside before he made a desperate grab for the vacuum cleaner.

He was washing glasses, making sure there was enough for another person to re-hydrate after walking the dogs, when a knock on the door startled him.

"Steve," he managed to greet the man in the doorframe

The blond looked even more intimidating in loose pants and a white t-shirt. It appeared that the leather jacket Steve had been wearing the day before had done nothing to reveal his physique.

Will realized that the arrangement may be a bad idea. In addition to not knowing anything about Steve, the man clearly had a level of strength that meant Will wouldn't be able to stand a chance against him. He felt his palms sweating and took an instinctual step back into the house.

"I-I'll just get the dogs."

They will protect him, Will thought.

Then he looked down at Peggy, who was sitting at the screen door, pawing at it to get through to her owner outside, who had crouched down to talk to her through the screen, as Will hadn't invited him in. It was a small gesture that calmed Will down, somewhat, and knowing that Peggy trusted her owner so much could only say good things.

"You can come in while I round them up." He decided, "It might take a few moments. Do you want any water? There're glasses in the kitchen."

Will looked away from the blinding smile.

"Thanks."

It didn't take too long to round up the dogs, their routine had been upset by not going out as soon as Will had gotten home, and the vacuum sound always made Trix a little twitchy, but they knew what was happening as soon as they saw the leads.

Steve was by the kitchen bench, glass clasped in his hands, staring out the window as a memory shadowed his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Will asked, seeing pain flicker over the other man's face and knowing the answer.

He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry."

Will nodded, but was glad that the other man hadn't claimed to be okay when clearly there was something going on behind his expressive blue expression.

"We could do this tomorrow if you've had a long day or..." he trailed off, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. It wasn't that he didn't like what he'd seen so far of Steve, but he didn't feel quite ready.

"No, I'll be fine. Sorry."

Tilting his head, Will ran his eyes over the strong posture. "Where were you stationed?"

Steve blinked. "Pardon?"

"You're a soldier, you're staying at a military base," he offered as an explanation, "You've just come back from a tour somewhere. I can see it. I was just wondering where, but you don't have to talk about it."

Will cursed himself. He shouldn't have asked; he wouldn't have wanted anyone to ask if it'd been him. And he _definitely_ wouldn't have wanted Steve to ask about his being in prison.

"I'm just surprised," Steve cut through Will's moment. "I had assumed you knew," He gave a self deprecating laugh and avoided Will's gaze for a moment. He rubbed the back of his neck, seeming to shrink in on himself. "I'm too used to people knowing who I am. I shouldn't be."

Frowning, Will shrugged. "Should I know who you are?"

"No, sorry. You have no reason too and I shouldn't have said anything."

"I-I don't watch a lot of T.V, or anything like that." He glanced around the kitchen. "I think I have one in the back room. Don't know if it works."

Steve chuckled. "That's fine... Kinda nice, if I'm being honest. It means I can be myself."

"You can be yourself by keeping secrets?"

Shrugging, Steve met Will's eyes, who held them. "It's just not who I am..." he frowned, shook his head and looked down at the ground for a moment, "but it's everything I am, sometimes, and that's all people see when they look at me."

"If it helps, I usually see things that other people don't." He crossed his arms over his middle, chewing his lip for a moment before deciding to add, quietly, "I've had a lot of people keeping secrets from me, I don't need another one."

He saw Steve shift to something more curious, but respective of Will's privacy. It made Will immediately doubt bringing up the point; if Steve was so willing to allow privacy for Will's dirty laundry, then he had no right to demand Steve tell him anything.

If anyone could understand how pre-conceived notions could affect perception, Will could. He'd spent six and a half months in gaol because of it.

He opened his mouth to apologise, but Steve raised a hand.

"No." He cut across Will, his voice gentle but leaving no room for argument, "It's not fair to think you'll be the same as everyone else." He put the glass down on the bench before. "I was surprised that you didn't know me because I'm Captain America."

Will blinked, "Oh... Oh, wow." He took a step forward. It fit, really, and Will felt embarrassed for not recognizing him sooner. It made sense. It was clear the man had a lot of internal strength, but not a lot on confidence in it, which fit with what he knew about the Captain.

"Well, that explains why I didn't recognize you." He smiled up at the soldier in self-deprecation. "I could never afford the trading cards or comics growing up, but I'd heard you were... back."

He averted his gaze down and saw that one of the dogs who had wandered in, leash trailing behind and wondering why they hadn't left yet.

Although it was true that Will could never afford any of the Captain America merchandise, the story had been important to Will growing up, as it had been for many kids who helped work on the docks.

They hadn't been interested in the tales of war glory and heroics. Will's favourite had been the story of a sickly boy, growing up poor and beaten down, who a good heart who lived a clean life and was chosen from the entire body of soldiers because of it. It had given so many of them hope, when they could see so many more privileged people succeed, that if they respected others and worked hard, someone would see that and they might catch a break.

Will had never been that naive, but it had been the first notion of many that'd made him believe he could one day join the police academy.

It seemed so long ago.

"I might leave." Steve's voice cut through an awkward silence that Will hadn't noticed, "Maybe we can do this on another day."

"No." Will took a step towards the other man. He stopped and realized that he had his arm outstretched, ready to stop, to touch, the other man. He looked at it for a moment before letting it fall to his side. "I-It was just a surprise. You don't have to leave, you came all the way here and I know you don't want to disappoint Peggy. I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable."

He meant it, too. He made a lot of people uncomfortable, but had long gotten over feeling guilty about it.

Steve was different. He didn't want Steve to be uncomfortable around him.

"No, I'm sorry. I should have told you straight away and not sprung it on you like this."

Kid gloves, Will thought. He was getting enough of that from Alana, and to a lesser extent, Jack, so he didn't need it from someone else too.

He turned away from Steve, not wanting the taller man to see the discomfort on his face, and whistled for the dogs, who bounded in with their leads getting tangled in the other's legs and tails whipping each other.

"It's fine. But if we're going to walk the dogs we should head out now, before it gets too dark."

* * *

Their walk had been made in silence. Will hadn't minded so much, as it had been surprisingly comfortable despite the embarrassment that had preceded it. In the beginning Steve would ask permission to sprint forward for a while, but after several times, Steve didn't bother asking permission. He would dash ahead, turning into a small silhouette against the setting sun, but would always return back to Will's side, smiling and not even out of breath.

When they had returned to the house it was dark. Steve had thanked the much smaller man for his company, bid goodbyes to not only Peggy, but the whole canine troupe as well, and left on the back of a vintage motorcycle.

It was a bit strange to be casually walking next to Captain America, but in doing so, Will had found himself calming down about needing to be social with a national treasure.

Steve did a very good job of just being Steve, and Will sensed how uncomfortable he'd been when telling the ex-agent about who he was. It was clear he had been nervous that Will would treat him differently, but, perhaps, Will was so awkward around everyone, that there had been very little change after the revelation. Steve seemed to be just as carefully friendly towards the other man as he had been before.

Will had lay in bed and thought about the other man before going to sleep. There were so many questions that he'd wanted to ask, but didn't think were appropriate. Nothing particularly personal, but Steve was in such a unique situation, that there were parts that Will, even with all his profiling experience, couldn't fathom.

He had fallen asleep and into dreams of battlefields; the deaths of everyone he knew. Somehow, the quiet unseen deaths that he dreamt of, the waking up after decades and finding everyone gone, was somehow worse than the usual visions of corpses.

At least the corpses kept him company. Without them he felt alone.

The day after his first walk with Steve, Will had gone to approach Jack. It was the first time he had approached the head of behavioural sciences since he had been released. Normally the experienced agent came to the classroom to check in, maybe test the waters, so he seemed rightfully surprised when Will appeared at his doorway voluntarily.

"I want to help. A-Again. I'm not doing anything in that classroom, Jack. I feel... impotent. Safe but impotent. I have this... _thing_, and it scares the hell out of me sometimes, but it helps people."

Jack leant forward in his chair, resting his hands on his desk. "I'm not sure we should go down that road again."

"I was sick, Jack" Will says sharply, much sharper than he had intended. It's a valid point, he feels, although he knows they're both aware of the fuller story.

Still, he felt satisfied to see Jack flinch a little, as minute as it was.

"Will, I don't think it's a good idea."

He opened his mouth to argue, but Jack help up a hand.

"Maybe," he continued, stifling what Will was going to say, "we can ease you back into it," the hand turned into a pointing finger, "but nothing too stimulating. The second it gets too much you stop. You _tell me_, and you stop."

Kid gloves and baby steps.

"I will. As long as you let me stop."

"As long as you stop if I tell you to stop."

"...Okay."

Jack leant back in his chair, "I also want an assessment by Doctor Lecter first."

Something in Will recoiled.

He didn't know why.

* * *

Somehow Will was able to put off the appointment with Hannibal for a day. He claimed to be busy with his dogs and lesson planning, even though the doctor had been willing to rearrange his schedule to accommodate him as soon as the call had been made.

He had known for a long time that he would have to, at some point, sit down with Doctor Lecter again. The man was not one to be ignored, and he had attempted several times to try and rebuild whatever friendship they'd once had; offers to drop-by with food or visit his classes, but never showing up in person. Will hadn't indulged him with much conversation, just reassured him that he was uncomfortable around everyone since he had returned and that it wasn't personal.

Without a doubt, the only reason why Hannibal believed the excuse was because Alana would have confirmed it. He'd been distant with everyone; there was no reason why Hannibal should feel singled out. Indeed, even Will didn't know why he felt a particular pull to stay away from the European.

"Hi. Steve?"

"_It's me. How are you?_"

"I'm... I'm okay, but I was just wondering if you had time to come around and walk Peggy tomorrow."

"_That'd be great. I could use the break_."

Will huffed a slightly bitter laugh, "I could use the company."

* * *

After an hour in Doctor Lecter's office, Will could tell that Hannibal was disappointed in him. There wasn't any frustration, but that had been expected as Hannibal was an infinitely patient man, although it was clear that the interview hadn't gone how the doctor had wanted.

Still, there had been some relief in the psychiatrist's air. Maybe because Will was clearly healed from his encephalitis, no hallucinations or lost time, and perhaps something else, something that Will could read in the other man's strange eyes but not decipher.

Will had briefly mentioned the nightmares he had been having, but refused to talk about their content, something he had never done with the doctor before. It was clear that Hannibal felt guilty about not being able to rescue him from his incarceration for almost seven months, and Will did not want to make that worse by describing the images his mistrust and hurt conjured in the night.

Hannibal had not agreed to sign Will's form after the one session. He stated that they would need several to properly assess Will's ability to return to work.

Part of Will suspected that it was a power play. It couldn't have been because of his growing refusal to open up and speak candidly, because Hannibal must have suspected that maybe the case in the beginning, yet had failed to rubber-stamp the form as he had previously done.

Maybe Hannibal just felt he should be cautious, lest pervious events repeat themselves.

Will couldn't blame him, but he did resent the need for it.

"Will," Hannibal had stopped him before he left the office, "I hope that any animosity that may have developed between us does not affect our professional relationship. I know I have failed you as a friend, and I apologize profoundly for it. I, of all people, should have believed your innocence without hesitation.

"You and I once had a very productive working relationship. Hopefully you can find it in yourself to let me help once again."

Will had tried to smile, and succeeded, more or less.

"I hope so too."

* * *

As it had been a weekend, Will had arranged to meet Steve around lunchtime. He didn't know why he felt that someone needed to expect him home after his appointment with Hannibal. Even though he had only met Steve twice before, and they didn't know each other well, or very much as all, Will knew that Steve would care if the smaller man didn't show up.

The soldier was at the house before Will. He was sitting on the steps in the cold, mirroring a position Will had been in on a day that had seemed far away, yet so prominently recent.

Steve looked up from his hands and greeted Will with an honest, lopsided smile.

"Hi."

"H-Hi." Will hesitated, standing by his car and not approaching the house as memories flooded him. His hands shook slightly, and he wrapped them around himself to hide the reflex. "How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you." he tilted his head, and looked appraisingly over the other man. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Steve looked over Will again, and nodded. He looked like he understood, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes; honest concern shining through. He rose from the steps as Will approached him, fumbling with his house keys to let them both inside and away from the brisk wind.

When Will shut down on people, he could usually sense how much they wanted to try and pry him open. He could tell that they wanted to keep asking him, to get him to talk about what was wrong, but were scared of how he might react if they pushed too hard.

The Brooklyn-born man didn't. Although he was hurt, he seemed to generally understand the need for silence, and didn't want to push for any other reason that Will didn't want him to.

Will felt like he'd kicked a puppy.

"I'm sorry," He paused with his hand on the doorknob, the dogs' claws already scratching the opposite side in anticipation. It was easier to talk to the peeling wood that the man's face. "I just... it's been... I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing anymore."

He leant his head against the door, listening to the sounds inside.

"Do you think you can figure it out?"

Will sighed. "I think so. Maybe. I-I don't..."

"Here, let me."

Steve reached around Will, his clothes brushing against him but avoiding physical contact as he put his hand on the doorhandle. Will hadn't noticed his hand had slipped from the brass knob, but he entered the house as Steve held the door open for him.

"Thank you." he managed to breathe. He could feel the dogs circling around his feet, but not jumping because they were good dogs. "I should get the leads."

* * *

They walked side by side. Steve didn't dash forward and back like he had last time. Although he seemed happy going the more sedate pace, Will could tell that a steady speed was not part of their usual routine. It was obvious in Peggy's movements, occasionally moving ahead and trying to pull on her lead, that it was rare for him to not try to push his, and her, physical limits.

"You don't have to."

"I don't have to what?"

"Stay with me. I don't need a babysitter. I can actually look after myself."

Steve glanced over. "I never thought you couldn't."

"Well, then, you are the first in a very long while to think that." Will winced at the words. Steve had done thing to deserve that kind of tone, and he had done nothing to warrant the burden of Will's problems.

"Why would they think that?"

Will stopped walking for a moment, and gazed up at the man who looked as put together and near-perfect as a human being could get; from his double-knotted shoes all the way to his precisely parted blonde hair. Although he knew from the story of Captain America that he had not always been like this, Steve was unequivocally himself. He was strong in his convictions and kindness. He would never have become Captain America if he wasn't.

He didn't think Steve could understand.

But, Will decided, he didn't really need Steve to understand; as long as he listened.

"I spent... s-some time in the state hospital for the criminally insane. I was released about a month ago." Will stopped and waited for a response he didn't think he could handle.

He didn't want to look up at Steve to see the expression on the usually open face. If the soldier disbelieved him, Will didn't want to have to disappoint by correcting him and explaining what had happened and who he was, but he didn't think he could stand the alternative. Steve could very easily reject him and not believe his innocence despite his release.

Will kept his eyes on the ground and wagging tails of the canines in front of them, who weree oblivious to everything except the sun and curious smells of past squirrels.

"I-I was innocent," he answered the unasked. "Someone set me up, but everyone's just been," he took a deep breath and continued slowly, "they've been treating me like I'm going to break any second, and I'm not sure they're wrong."

Steve made a contemplative humming noise. "Which one bothers you the most; that they doubt you or you doubt yourself?"

"I'm used to people doubting me, and to doubting myself I suppose. My head is clear, it's not like before, but they're _making_ me doubt myself, and I have nothing to... to hold onto. It used to be my frie-... psychiatrist, Doctor Lecter, but I can't..." Will stopped walking, staring at the horizon, "I'm trying to get back to my life but I'm worried it's just going to end up in the same place."

Gerulf barked and pawed at his leg. Will chided him with a sharp noise between his teeth and the dog settled back. They were not used to stopping during their walk, as Will liked to keep moving, not only to try and prevent his mind from lingering on anything but to also burn off as much energy as possible so he could fall asleep quickly and not have any nocturnal ventures.

"Maybe I should go back." Will mumbled, not sure whether he was talking about his house or the hospital. He turned and didn't wait for his dogs to reorient themselves before he started walking back from the direction he'd come, tugging on the leads.

He didn't know why he was so desperate to retreat, but when he didn't hear Steve at his side, or even following him, he laughed in a brief, somewhat maniacal manner.

One of the dogs whined, another almost growled at the strange sound.

It was suitable that he walk back to the house alone. Maybe he was supposed to be alone.

Alone and with his dogs.

Will was not naive enough to think that Steve, Captain America, was perfect. He was still human, after all, although recent encounters with interplanetary visitors had shown that imperfection was not a solely human trait. The blonde still seemed to be extremely well put together; he was perfectly designed, and nothing like Will, who was broken and only held together by stubborn hope.

Even if Steve wasn't aware of it, and it really seemed like he wasn't, it was obvious that someone like Steve shouldn't be hanging around with someone like Will. He was too high maintenance and too much of a hopeless case for Steve to care about.

Such a public figure, a symbol of everything good, could only be tainted by associating with someone like Will.

The man had gone through one of the toughest times in human history, been right in the middle of it, yet he was so well balanced and strong while Will could barely exist. It just highlighted the weakness of Will's mind as he put one foot in front of the other and felt more and more pathetic.

Heavy footfalls appeared behind him, he could barely hear them over the panting of his dogs.

"Will! Wait!"

The FBI lecturer kept walking.

"Will!"

Steve appeared in his field of vision, but overtook him and started walking backwards so that he could face the stubbornly still-moving Will. It placed the taller man directly in Will's eye line, but he looked down reflexively to the man's shoes and the uneven ground covered in dead grass and wet leaves.

Even with a wall of dogs between them, it felt far too intimate.

He hoped that his glasses, and the reflected afternoon light could hide any emotion that was threatening to spill out.

"Look, I don't know what you've gone through, and I barely know you, but I'd like too, if you'd let me. You don't seem..." He sighed, "I mean you're-"

Then Steve crumpled down onto the ground

He had slid over the fallen, slick leaves while trying to walk backwards. The dogs lurched forward, desperate smother Steve with the joy of being close enough to lick the tall man's face. The pull of the leads almost sent Will tumbling on top of the other man, but he managed to only trip on Steve's leg and stumble to the side while remaining upright.

He looked down at the fallen soldier, or what he could see of him through the chaos of dogs.

Will snickered, and then laughed.

The tears that he had been carefully caging fell down his cheeks at the sudden spark of bright emotion. He swiped at his eyes from under his glasses and switched the loops for all seven leads onto on hand, so he could offer the other to Steve.

"Okay. If you want I'll tell you... if you want."

Steve propped himself up on his elbows and met Will's eyes for a pointed beat before grasping the hand.

"I really do."

* * *

The fireplace was still burning low; Will tried to keep it going throughout the day. The nights were getting frosty and building it back up was much easier than trying to restart it every day.

He had pulled his armchair close, not shedding his jacket. Talking, _remembering_, had made him feel cold.

Steve had stretched out on the couch, a mixed bag of peas and corn on his ankle and a compress on the back of his head. He'd claimed that he healed faster than most, but Will didn't want to be the one responsible for damaging such an unbreakable person and had insisted.

He got the impression that Steve was indulging him the behaviour, but it gave Will something to do with his hands, and stalled his life explanation for a few moments while he could figure out how to say it.

When Will had eventually managed to start talking, the captain had been quiet and polite. He listened intently with caring eyes that made Will feel guilty about causing such concern. It had taken a lot to try and articulate everything that had happened, there were large holes in his memory when the brain's swelling had gotten too much, and some events had overlapped with hallucinations and memories until they were undecipherable.

When he'd gotten to the part about Abigail's death, Will had excused himself from the room.

He didn't know whether to cry or throw up, so he did both.

When he returned, he knew that he had been gone for a while and couldn't play it off as anything unrelated. He was pale, shivering and he had abandoned his glasses on the bathroom sink so his red, puffy eyes were clearly visible.

Steve rose and sat up on the couch. Will protested when the bag of vegetables was places aside, and the hurt ankle placed on the ground.

"Don't stand-"

"It's fine." He remained seated, but looked up at Will and shifted to one side of the couch. "It's fine."

Will hesitated. He moved to the spot next to Steve but kept a patch of distance between them. He wished he hadn't put the dogs outside for some privacy, so he could pat one and have something to do with his hands.

"For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing by going back to work. Back to consulting."

"I can help people. I'm good at it. They need me."

"And you need to help them." He rotated slightly, so he was facing Will more fully, but ducked his head to catch his down-casted gaze and bring it back to him. "It's not the same situation, but," he laughed, sudden and self-deprecating, "I tried to be accepted into the army five times before they let me in. I knew it was foolish, and I probably wouldn't survive basic training let alone actual combat, but I kept trying. I probably didn't think about what would actually happen beyond being accepted because it seemed so impossible at the time.

"I ended up, even before the," he gestured vaguely to his muscular body, "I ended up being stronger than I'd ever thought. Physically, at first, and then after, when I was... The serum," he changed tracks, "only affected my body. Everything else came from the war... The point I'm trying to make...I think... Is that you can't know what you're capable of yet... But I think it's brave that you're willing to try again, given everything you've, you know, lost."

Steve frowned and stared at the fireplace for a moment. Clearly replaying everything in his head to make sure he made sense.

It struck Will that Steve seemed like a different person when he wasn't trying to be the leader. When he was simply talking about himself, rather than focused on helping someone else.

It was the man behind the uniform. Not just beyond the stars and stripes of Captain America, but underneath the military training of Captain Rogers, was someone more vulnerable that Will would have thought.

He was surprised that he hadn't seen it. He hadn't thought the facade of Steve reputation would have obscured his vision so much, but as he watched the clear skin on the other man's face, the crinkle between his eyebrows, he knew that wasn't the case.

He just hadn't thought that the legend of Steve Rogers could have had anything in common with unremarkable Will.

"I didn't know who I was, after they changed me," Steve continued, unaware of Will's eyes carefully tracking his face, "but I knew what I had to do. I was a soldier and I had to follow orders, be patriotic, protect my men, stop Hydra. Who I was became shaped by what I was doing, whether it was fighting or hawking bonds."

"A-and you think, I'll find myself by going back to work."

Steve looked back up at Will, who looked directly into the clear blue eyes. "No. I think you know who you are, even if you don't know you know, and it led you back to the FBI. From what you said today, you seem to _need_ to help people, and you just need to let that focus you."

"I don't..." Will wanted to look away from Steve, but couldn't bring himself to do something that usually came so naturally to him, "I don't think that's enough. I'm sorry."

"You realize you don't need to keep apologizing to me, right?"

Will laughed and looked down. "Yeah," Not able to meet Steve's eyes, his gaze fell on pink lips, "Sorry," he tried to joke.

Steve shifted and the back of a finger pushed Will's chin up slightly so there eyes met again.

"It's fine."

Something tightened in Will's chest, and he opened his mouth slightly to speak, but nothing came forth. He found his eyes kept flicking across Steve's face, and he was suddenly very aware of the lingering stuffiness from crying, the sweat sticking his t-shirt between his shoulder blades and the lingering stomach-acid burn in his throat.

"I-I can't..."

The doorbell rang.

Steve's arm dropped.

"I should leave." He stood quickly, as if scolded, and placed the washcloth and vegetables on the small table. "I... Thank you for talking. I really appreciate you trusting me."

Will followed Steve's direction, rising from the couch and choking on the words he spoke to the fleeing man's back;

"Thank you for listening."

* * *

When it had been Alana at the door, Will nearly sobbed in relief. He had, for a fleeting moment, thought it might have been Hannibal following up on their session, trying to disarm him by appearing on Will's territory, like he had for their second ever meeting.

He felt far too vulnerable to have to deal with Hannibal.

Although, Alana wasn't much better. He could deal with her more than the doctor, but he'd already felt strung out that day and didn't need any more.

"So, who was he?"

"I'm looking after his dog. Peggy" Will was proud at how strong and casual it had come out. "He brought her on a business trip to D.C., but wanted her to have a decent place to stay. The shelter gave him my number."

"How long is she staying?"

Will smiled slightly. "I don't know. Until Steve goes back to New York I guess."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Will, please try not to get too attached."

Something twisted in his chest and he turned from her. "I won't."

"It's just that I know how you get with your dogs, and-"

"She's _not_ my dog. I know." He turned and headed towards the kitchen to open the side door for the dogs. They had been fed when he had Steve had arrived home, so they would have finished doing their business and could be let back in.

"I know." Alana mirrored.

Will heard her sensible heals follow him through the house, "So... umm... why the visit?" he asked the room in front of him.

"Well, I heard you had an appointment with Hannibal this morning. I wanted to see how it went."

He grabbed the door and pulled it open. "You couldn't just call?" The harshness of his words were softened by the sound of eight dogs snuffling in and clacking their way onto his old hardwood. They tracked in some mud, but he couldn't bring himself to care; He was too busy ignoring why he was so annoyed at Alana's drop-by.

The dogs gravitated towards Alana, remembering her as their mother for more than half a year. She hadn't spoiled them as much as he had, keeping them more as outside dogs since her house was not as big as his, and the weather much warmer, but they still loved her and were very glad to for her company.

They must miss the way she smelled, because they were all over her, and she crouched down to squeeze their faces with both hands and then rub their stomachs. It was an enthusiasm for the canines she had never shown before, and even though Will's comment had hurt her, and she was using the dogs to recollect herself, the affection was sincere.

Will looked away, feeling guilty about trying to put distance between him and Alana. He had been thinking too much about himself, not thinking that Alana and the dogs might be suffering and missing each other.

Then he noticed Peggy standing in the doorway, looking at Alana with her head cocked, taking a step cautiously forward with her nose low to try and sniff out the new visitor.

"Hey, girl," he said softly, feeling the tension bleed out from his shoulders as the foxhound looked to him. "Hey, it's okay. She's a friend."

And it was true. Alana was his friend. She had been the one to realize the encephalitis angle and she had always been in his corner.

There was no real reason why he should feel so hostile towards her.

Except she was too far in his corner, and he couldn't breathe with her so close.

She rose from the dogs and looked to him. What she was looking for, Will didn't want to think about.

"Alana," he said to her right shoulder, "I don't think you should..." He sighed, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Even looking at the patterned material on her arm was too hard, but he needed to dive in or they'd both drown. "You shouldn't _wait_ for me. I've... I'm healed, from the encephalitis, but I-I can never be _un_broken. You know that. I know you know that." He dropped his arm and tried to look at her, "and I know you wish it weren't true, but we can't keep... ignoring it."

She nodded. "Yeah," she smiled lopsidedly, "I know."

Will could feel her disappointment and her anger. It was all directed at herself, not him, but it was painful to watch. He took a step towards her and hesitantly wrapped an arm around her. It was at an awkward height, but touching people was not something he was used to. It might make things worse, but for a moment he didn't care.

So he kissed her.

On the cheek.

And he didn't feel the familiar desire, the pull towards her that he used to.

"I'm sorry." He breathed.

She choked a laugh or a sob. "I know that too." Pulling back she placed both hands onto his face, forcing his eyes to her watery ones. "_I'm_ sorry." Her thumb brushed the corner of his lips, but she didn't move in. "I'm just so sorry. For everything that's happened."

Will nodded, and lightly grabbed her wrists to lower them away from his face and return them to her.

"It's okay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Dog Days**

The file didn't have the kind of pictures that Will really needed to visualize what had happened. The descriptions were cold and clinical, more so than he could remember them being, which made him suspect that it had been tailored for him and his 'delicate sensibilities'.

He decided that he appreciated the sentiment, but as the censorship was preventing him from being able to work properly it was inordinately frustrating.

Will flicked the file away and watched it sail off the side of the bed to land on the floor. Chances were that Bailey would drag it back to her dog-bed and sleep on it, she was weird like that, but he couldn't think of a better place for it to be filed. He stared down at the paper for a moment, knowing it wouldn't change into something useful without Hannibal's approval.

He took the glass tumbler from the small table beside his bed and finished off the rest of his whiskey.

Will then returned it, and picked up the phone the adjacent phone.

He took a moment to stare at it, then at his bare toes that sat on top of his covers, which he wiggled contemplatively.

No, he decided, as he still didn't know what to do with what he was feeling for Steve. It was new and slightly terrifying, but he needed to be away from the blond for a while to figure things out. If he didn't, then he wouldn't be able to separate what he was feeling and what he thought Steve was feeling, which he was sure were completely different things.

Instead of calling the man he wanted to talk to he sent a text to Hannibal. Even though Will knew the psychiatrist didn't like the medium, he just couldn't talk to the other face to face again. Not just yet.

_'Hi Hannibal, how are you?_' he started in the coveted politeness,_ 'Is it possible to have our next session sometime this week instead of next? I'm free any day after 7pm if you can fit me in._' his thumbs paused for a minute, wondering how desperate he had to sound to get Hannibal to agree, but without putting himself in too submissive a position. '_I want to be cleared for work asap_._ Thanks_.'

He put the phone aside for a moment, not quite flinging it like he had the file but it had been a close call. Then he had to reclaim it to press Send, and placed it delicately on the table, as if it would explode if he put it down too quickly.

Will swore, squirmed around so he could shove his legs under the covers, and turned off the lamp.

* * *

Will liked lecturing. The room of students was always quiet. They listened intently, expressing themselves with only the clack of keys or the decreasingly popular scrape of pen on paper.

He could forget everything except the words coming from his mouth, but they were words he had carefully crafted and didn't stutter or hesitate on. He had his back to the slides, but he could knew exactly what was on them and knew there were no surprises or visions. He could control them; change the images at his will with the small devise he had palmed rather than be stuck in frozen terror, like when he slept.

It was also a time for him to clear his mind. Too reboot it, as it were.

He had been thinking about Steve constantly, and it was nice to have a rest.

Will generally didn't believe that friendship was something his personality was compatible with. He had always found it hard to have a relationship, of any type, on equal footing. There should be a give and take, a coexistence that was balanced between two people, but he had never felt that with anyone as he had always felt like a burden to the other person.

He had tried having a girlfriend in the later years of high-school. She had been sweet, quiet and he had hoped that her mild personality wouldn't impose on him, but it had. It was hard to reach compromise or a shared existence when so much of the other person made Will feel like he was being pushed out of his own mind.

There was always the possibility that the same would happen with Steve, but he seemed respectful of whom Will was. He didn't have a very invasive personality, the stronger Captain Rogers side was not as domineering as the other man would have suspected and the calmer, more _Steve_ side seemed just as strong in its conviction while being very approachable.

One of his students has walked into class with the Captain America shield printed on a t-shirt, partially hidden under a blazer.

It had brought an honest smile to Will's face, one he had to turn away to hide lest anyone see.

However, once he had started lecturing, that person had blended into the darkness of his lecture room and all the worries and thoughts of Steve that had been stimulating his mind and preventing his sleep were, for a few hours, laid to rest.

* * *

"Alana tells me you have a new companion in your life."

"It's temporary. She has an owner; I'm just looking after her for a while."

"Is she well trained?"

"_All_ my dogs are well trained."

"But she's not your dog, yes? What is her owner like, have you met them?"

"Yeah, I've met him. He's nice, he's a good owner. Cares about her a lot."

"Enough to place her in your care; which speaks of good taste. Have you socialized with him much?"

"Socialized?" he laughed self-deprecatingly, "I know it's been a while, doctor, but I'm surprised you forgot me so quickly."

"No so, Will. I am simply aware how much you care for your canine companions; for you to declare him a capable master is high praise indeed and you must have had some interaction with him in order to make such an assessment."

"We've met... he comes around, every couple of days to... check up on her. Then he leaves. We don't really talk much except about Peggy."

"Peggy is the dog, yes?"

"Yeah, she's great too."

"Too?"

"... Great... _and_ well trained... too."

"I see."

* * *

He was walking forward and there was something falling from the sky. Ash and dirt, maybe, but falling slowly like snow. It was strange, and he reached out a hand to catch some, but it wasn't his arm. It was too big to be his arm.

He looked down at his chest, but that wasn't his either. It was too broad, too hard, and it felt like a stone statue wrapped around him to try and crush the small frame within. It was making it hard to breath, pressing down on his chest, and he could feel the beat of his heart trying to push against the sculpted marble.

There were four circles and a five-pointed star burnt into his chest.

But he didn't feel like Captain America, and he wasn't Steve Rogers.

He didn't know who he was and he tried to claw at the flesh, but he cut his fingertips on the sharp muscles, and broke his fingernails, forcing them up and away to smear blood on flawless skin.

He was panicking, what air he could get was coming in quick breaths and he tripped, his feet sliding on the slick surface of the ground and he fell forward.

Putting his arms out, he caught himself, but the impact of falling to his knees and landing on his arms sent tremors up his body. He wheezed and his hands shook as stress fractures ran up his stone arms like veins.

The ground underneath him was ice, but there were parts of his rock flesh which were eroding and crumbling from his biceps. It should have freed him up to breathe more freely, but instead it seemed to do the opposite.

He started down at the ice to see his face under the surface. There was a loud noise, one that stood all his hair up, made his toes curl and his whole body cringe.

He tried to sit back on his legs, but they crumbled. Blood and crumbled rock was gathering beneath him, and he felt tears prick his eyes.

He was losing himself.

The he looked up, and saw on the clear horizon a black silhouette of a human, or what looked like a human.

It had horns.

And it was watching him.

* * *

There were several towels rolled up and placed carefully within one of his bedroom draws. Although the faded floorboards were not the warmest under his feet during on winter night, it was still a much more welcome feeling than having to walk the cold tiles of his bathroom to where the majority of his towels were.

Will had curled up between two of the cheap cloths and tried to calm his shaking body.

The black, horned demon had not invaded his dreams for a while. They had stopped several months into his incarceration, although the shadows beyond his bars had still seemed to stretch into the antlers when they had switched to the safety lights each night.

It disturbed him that it was resurfacing. Will couldn't figure out why, other than the added stress of trying to figure out what was happening with Steve.

At 3:17am he gave up on trying to get back to sleep. He was cold, not wanting to put the covers back on to soak through them, but had hoped that the cool air would stop the nervous sweating and maybe give him something else to focus on instead of shadows and horns.

The dogs protested him getting out of bed again. They seemed to be able to sense whether he was getting up because he was distressed or when he was simply going to the bathroom, and came to him as he swung his legs off the mattress.

Will reached down to pat them, and mumbled something that would reassure them.

Normally when he couldn't sleep, he would go into his 'guest' room, filled with books and old case files that had been solved. He would read, or maybe try and work out a lesson plan. Sometimes he would tie flies, but only on the rare occasions where his hands wouldn't shake and he thought he could concentrate after a rough night.

He pulled his laptop off the charger in the guest room and padded his way into the lounge.

After checking the fire he sat down and stared across at the other side of the room, at the couch which he and Steve had sat on to talk. He checked his e-mail, and ignored a few messages from his students about a recent paper, before he flicked over to _youtube_. He had several videos saved in his favourites, general 'feel-good' things which got him through some darker moments.

'_Captain America_' he typed into the search bar, his pinkie finger hitting the enter key before Will could decide if it was something he really wanted to do.

Most of the videos that came up were news reports about 'The Avengers'.

Will had been locked away from the world during the alien attack on Manhattan. He almost hadn't believed what Doctor Chilton had been telling him when he explained the wormhole and aliens descending onto the city. Almost two dozen news papers, from all around the globe, had been collected by the psychiatrist and placed in Will's cell, so that he could adjust to the news in privacy.

He clicked on a general news report.

It was the first piece of footage he had seen of the attack and he sat transfixed on the window of chaos and colour.

There was something numbing about watching it. Will couldn't quite believe that something so horrific had happened in the world and he could be so removed from it. Even after he had been released, he hadn't caught up with global events, more concerned with trying to rebuild the life that had crumbled so severely he didn't know what form it should retake.

In a few videos they showed Captain America dressed in blue, stared and striped, and even though his face was covered by a fairly unflattering mask it was clearly Steve. Most of the cameras had trouble focusing with the carnage, and were trying to find a good angle to fit multiple Avengers in shot, pulling back and refocusing as they searched.

He clicked on something else in the sidebar.

Will shuddered as the large expanse of ice from his dream came up on the window. He peered curiously at the large military compound that was settled around the side of the image.

"_-hile we are unsure of the agency responsible for the find, it is clear that the burial place of national icon 'Captain America' has been located and that the super soldier is being excavated from the solid ice of Antarctica_."

He shivered and looked over at the other couch, and the homemade blanket that was draped over it. It had a little splatter over it from when Steve had made his place in the mud. He didn't think the army captain had noticed it in his haste to leave, if he had then he would have been too polite to leave it there.

He chose another video to watch.

"_These are the hard working men..._"

Will pressed the mute button on the announcer. It was filmed silently, so he would watch it silently.

It was an old skittish reel, showing soldiers chatting as they walked along side an old tank, waving something around that looked like a twisted bit of metal. One of the men looked at the camera and mimed an explosion, which set off a chain of laughter amongst the filmed group.

The camera panned over and landed on Steve for a moment. The announcer was no doubt saying something about the famed 'Captain America' fighting for the American way of life, but that's not what Will saw.

Will looked at the footage that lingered on the soldier. He looked much more tired than Will felt, which was an accomplishment in itself, and he had dirt smeared over his face. He was frowning slightly at the other men, but in his eyes he seemed happy that this companions could be jovial in a time when very few people had reason to be.

He looked young. Impossibly young and unsure as he glanced at the camera before he walked past the shot and it cut to another scene.

Will felt himself smiling.

The men were pouring over a map. Steve was directing them with a sweeping gesture.

There was a compass sitting in the middle of their group on the map.

It had a picture of a woman; an attractive woman. Steve grabbed it, closing it quickly with a glance at the camera, clearly embarrassed and not wanting anyone to see.

Will's smile faded, and he felt like he had just woken up from one of his dreams with ice in his veins.

He slammed the laptop shut and pushed it onto the couch next to him.

Standing, Will stepped over to the other couch and wrapped the blanket around himself, falling to his side on the piece of furniture and curling up with his ringlets falling into his eyes. His head hurt from not sleeping and not wearing his glasses while watching to laptop, and he glared at the computer as best he could from the other side of the room.

He fell asleep with the image of the woman in the compass burnt on the back of his eyelids.

* * *

Will knew that Steve wouldn't be coming around or calling every day. He must have been busy on the army base, as that was the whole reason why Peggy was being kept in the house. For a moment, Will couldn't blame her for running away. He wanted to run away too, but he knew he couldn't because the urge to be found by the soldier was too strong.

That was, of course, assuming Steve would come looking for him.

He didn't think that he scared Steve away, since someone who lived through the middle of World War 2 probably couldn't be scared away so easily. It was possible that he had given up on Will, but he didn't seem the type to do that either.

But, Will thought, maybe he wanted to be given up on.

It'd be easier than wondering why Steve hadn't called and then wondering why it made him wonder so hard. Wondering why it made thinking of anything else so hard.

The woman in the compass had been spinning in his mind all day.

Will knew it must have been an old love of Steve's. He knew waking up and realizing that everyone he knew must be dead must have been hard, and someone that he... had _loved_ had lived a life without him; knowing so many opportunities they could have had together were lost to time must have hurt.

Will felt a familiar tremor of guilt flicker through his insides.

He could remember the time so long ago when he had tried to make a move on Alana. Hannibal had said that his reaching out to her had been 'a clutch for balance', trying to create a focus in an unstable moment. It was possible that... whatever it was that had drawn Steve to Will's friendship was the same sort of impulse.

Everything in Steve's life had been taken from him, maybe he just needed to gain something sold once again, and then realized that Will was not stable enough to fill that role.

It wouldn't be the first time someone had thought that.

However, it usually turned to pity, and they turned Will into their project.

He couldn't handle Steve thinking that. Not with so many people already dedicating themselves to that task.

Will sighed, and decided that he couldn't think properly. So he picked up his office phone and dialled the extension.

Jack had wanted to talk to him after class, but Will didn't want to wait. He wouldn't be able to stand in a room and talk when he felt like such a lost cause, so he made a quick call to Alana, kept the tremor from his voice and was as professional as he could. She agreed to fill in for the class, and he agreed to leave the notes on the classroom desk, so she didn't have to face him.

Then he called Jack, and asked if he could move the meeting up earlier.

* * *

"Doctor Lecter has cleared you to work."

"He has?" Will tried to keep the incredulous tone out of his voice, but failed. He could tell that Jack was happy at the assessment, because it meant he could take his teacup back off the shelf, even though didn't quite believe the news himself.

"He says you need to 'cultivate an environment that provides purpose and peer accountability'. I think that means you need to get out of your house and talk to someone who's not one of your dogs."

Will tried not to let his body tense. It was clear to him that Hannibal knew about Steve, or, at least, that he had not been entirely truthful about Peggy's owner.

It was also clear that Hannibal didn't like that he had made a friend, and was trying to separate them.

"Yeah," he breathed an awkward, nervous laugh, "that's probably it."

"We've got no fresh crime scenes for you, but there are a few open cases." He pulled a few files over from the side of the desk. They were notably thicker than the one he had previously dealt with, and he could see the glossy edges of photos within.

Will swallowed as he reached out and took the file.

"Thanks Jack."

"Yeah, well, it's not me you should be thanking."

* * *

"_Hi, Will. This is Steve. I hope you're doing well. I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch somewhere tomorrow. You don't have to, if you don't want to, but I'd like to see Peggy again, and you... I might have to go back to New York for a little bit and I'd like to see you again. If that's okay? Call me back, please, and let me know... Okay... I'll see you. O-Or not. But either way, call me back. Please._"

* * *

Will had brought the FBI file with him while he waited so he could have something to do with his hands and his mind. The photos were making him slightly dizzy, and when he looked out at the small park, where the dogs were playing, he could see the body of a young woman in the centre of the grass, her body splayed open and pinned like a high-school frog.

A dog, not one of Will's, walked up to and peed on her.

Her eyes opened, honey brown instead of the dead white iris that had been in the photos.

Then she started screaming.

Will covered her mouth with his hand. It was placed wrong, and she bit down on what flesh she could reach. It hurt, and he snarled as the tears poured down her face. He reached around to his back, and the knife tucked into his belt.

He raised it...

"Will!"

... And looked up, his heart racing like he had been caught and was ready to run, or fight.

Steve was looked at him, the concerned line between his eyebrows was back and Will looked down and away from the soldier. He was standing over the body of the dead woman, not sitting on top of her half-clothed form ready to thrust her open.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I-I'm fine." He lied. "I-I don't..."

Steve put a hand on his shoulder. It was warm and it took a moment before Will realized that he hadn't flinch away like he normally would when someone touched him without warning.

Will looked back down on the ground. The woman was gone, and he knew he hadn't killed her because someone was touching him. _Steve_ wouldn't want to touch him if he was a killer, and it was a wonderfully comforting thought.

"You don't look fine. You didn't really look like... you."

"I was just getting lost in a case." The detective admitted, "My first proper one since coming back. It's a habit I have; loosing myself. It's how everyone could believe that I... belonged in a mental hospital." He glanced back down at the bare grass beneath his feet. "Can we go..." he gestured to the park bench.

"Yeah, sure. Can Peg come?"

Will looked over at the hound, who watch watching with a tail that was about to lift her off the ground, and smiled shakily.

At the confirmative nod, Steve gave the same sharp whistle he had on the day they'd met and he, again, picked her up and cradled her to his chest so he could carry her over.

"You know," Will started, wanting to shake the macabre image from his mind with conversation, "before I met you I used to think I spoilt my dogs."

Steve laughed. "I don't really do it very often, and she knows not to try and jump on everyone."

"She met one of my colleagues the other day. She seemed very hesitant. I'd thought you said she was good with strange people."

"Was it that woman I met at your house the other day?"

"Yeah."

Steve nodded, "She fits in better with men. She gets a little aggressive and defensive around other females. Sorry, I should have warned you."

"It was fine. She was just a little standoff-ish."

They sat next to each other and Steve let Peggy sit between his feet so she could be close. He left one hand scratching her ear, but angled himself so that he could still look at Will when they spoke.

"So you've got a new case? Is it going well?"

Will looked away. He knew it was just an icebreaker, but he didn't particularly want to talk about it. "It's not... coming as easily as it used to. I think I must be distracted, or something."

"Distracted by what?" Steve asked, honestly curious.

"Everyone's expectations," He half-lied, "I think they want me to be able to do exactly what I did before, but I can't. I just can't."

"It's okay to be scared."

He laughed, "I know. I'm very used to being scared. It's just not particularly helpful right now."

"Maybe you have to change what you're scared of. Change it into something that _is_ helpful."

Will nodded and looked up into Steve's open face. It sounded like sage advice, something that the soldier probably had to figure out for himself somewhere on the battlefield of the 40s. It sounded like something Will couldn't do, but he would try. He would try for Steve.

"You're going back to New York." Will mumbled, before he realized he's thought it. He blinked and looked away from the slightly confused, yet amused, face.

"Tomorrow night and I'm going to try to only be away for the weekend. It'll be a week at the absolute maximum. I wanted to ask you if you minded keep Peggy for a while, just so she doesn't have to move around."

"I love having her."

Steve gave Peggy another pat. "There used to be stray dogs all over the streets, so malnourished they could barely move. I would have loved to take them all in, but I was so allergic I couldn't get near them. I used to make my friend Bucky go out and feed them, give them blankets. He was a good person, and you're a good person too, so that's one thing you don't have to be scared about."

Steve looked down and scuffed his toe into the dirt for a moment.

Will wanted to dismiss and ignore the comment made by Steve, blow it off like he did so many compliments, but he couldn't. Not when it came from such an honest person, and not when it was something that was so important, even if it was eight months too late for someone to say.

"T-Thank you." he managed. "I'm..." he had to pause, not quite sure what he was going to say, so he said the first menial thing that came to his mind, letting it come out in a rush of words. "I'm sorry to hear you were allergic to dogs. I can't imagine many things worse."

Steve laughed modestly. "I was allergic to pretty much everything, so dogs were just one thing of many too avoid. I read a lot, ended up much more literate than almost everyone on my block, so it wasn't all bad."

"It must have been... isolating."

Steve looked up at Will with a slightly sad smile. He turned to angle himself more towards the profiler, and rested a large, warm hand on Will's thigh. His eyes flickered away and he blushed deeply as he ducked his head, which caused a lock of his hair to fall in front of his face.

Then he looked back up, shifted his weight into Will's leg, leant in and kissed him.

It was only a small brush of Steve's lips against the corner of Will's, more on his stubbled cheek than lips, really.

Will let out a shaky breath, and tried to stop his whole body shivering along with it.

"I... Umm..." Steve whispered, his face still close to Will's, "I think this is the part when I start apologizing."

"Please don't. Please."

Steve pulled back, "Sorry."

"Apologize, I mean." Will put a clammy hand on top of Steve's perfect, warm one and looked away. "Don't apologize."

"... Okay. Do you, maybe, want to get something to eat?"

Will glanced back up at Steve before his gaze darted away.

"I think I'd like that."

* * *

Steve had packed a lunch, which seemed strange, but it was nice. Quaint, Will had thought, with sandwiches that were clearly homemade, containing no more than two or three ingredients in each and every ingredient something nice and simple and clearly not bought from a mass produce brand.

There were seven different types of sandwich, on several four different types of bread. Steve had claimed that he hadn't been sure what Will liked, and so had made a selection. There was also a fruit platter.

Will had enjoyed the tuna and mayonnaise and the turkey, cheese and lettuce. It was a nice change from the meals that were usually brought to him. As much as he appreciated Hannibal's culinary skills, even something as simple as chicken soup seemed so foreign and far too extravagant for the likes of Will. The feast Steve had presented reminded him of the sandwiches he used to have when he was younger, the ones his father would take to work and he would take to school.

Steve had given Peggy a bone, but had also passed a box over to Will with seven others inside, for the other dogs back at his house.

Will was touched at the gift.

The conversation had flowed easier than he would have suspected. Nearly every other time Will and Steve had talked, it had been pointed conversation. The memory of the dead woman remained close, but Will was able to push it aside and focus on topics more casual. After a while, he could glance over to the patch of green without seeing her sprawled form bleeding into the grass, the deep voice with the tinge of Brooklyn accent focusing him away from the case and into the living moment.

They didn't talk about much, really. Will had mentioned his father, and fishing, which had prompted a lot of interest on Steve's behalf. Will had enjoyed explaining how to know the areas specific fish swam in, and the best way to catch them.

Steve was also very curious about Will's lures, which had thrown Will, slightly. There were still some negative associations for him in regards to his creations. He decided not to mention the connection to Steve, who was curious about the 'art' of the individual lures, and eventually Will found himself talking about the details with almost the same enthusiasm as his father when he had shown Will, a young boy, how to fish.

In turn, Steve had told him about his friends from the war. Will had liked listening about the Steve who he'd only glimpsed at in the surviving video records; the Steve he had slowly been getting to know.

He had mentioned a woman named Peggy, but only briefly as someone who had picked him for the super-soldier project, yet there had been a wistful note in his voice when he ghosted over her name. It didn't escape Will's notice that Steve had named his dog after the woman.

Will knew, without a doubt, that the soldier didn't realize the symbolism in giving Peggy's name to a bitch. Instead, he knew it was because Steve had seen Peggy the human as deserving of the love and of being doted upon as much as Peggy the dog.

Although Steve probably felt the weight of losing her, it was a testament to how much he respected those he cares about that he kept around such a reminder.

And Will found himself craving that respect; to be cared for and doted upon.

After the picnic lunch Steve suggested they go out for an early dinner the next night, before he had to go to New York, and Will agreed.

He offered to make reservation at a restaurant, telling Will not to worry about trying to find something last minute.

It wasn't until he got half-way home that he realized dinner with Steve may be a bad idea, and he had to pull the car to the side and convince himself that it was nothing worth hyperventilating about, and that it would be okay.

* * *

It was a decision that Will had never really had to worry about. A lot of his clothes, all his flannel shirts and jackets, were handed down from his father. The only somewhat nice piece of clothing he owned was a cheap tuxedo which he had been forced to buy for a social function he agreed to go to, but failed to attend.

He stood, dripping shower-water on the wooden floors as he tried to decide what to do.

A white t-shirt was a safe start. He put on a flannel shirt and his nicest sweater to cover up its old and tired state, then the tuxedo jacket over the top. It looked odd and didn't quite come together properly, especially since he didn't know where they were going and what the dress-code was.

This was a stupid idea, Will decided, but refused to cancel. He didn't want to be responsible for disappointing Steve, even if he couldn't see his face over the phone, Will would still _see_ it.

Steve was a good person, and he deserved a nice night out.

The restaurant Steve had picked actually didn't look so bad and not too upper-class, which relieved Will to no end. Even though he had a lucrative job, and could afford somewhere much more expensive, he was always happiest living a life which remembered his more humble upbringing.

Steve was waiting, huddled at the side of the building to avoid the drizzle of rain.

Will stayed in his car, circling slowly to find a spot to park as he tried to comb his shaking fingers through his hair and convince himself that he was, in no way, nervous. It was a lie, and an unconvincing one at that, but one he had to try and believe for Steve's sake.

He glanced over at the back seat and the tux jacket he really didn't want to put on. The car heater was keeping him warm enough that he didn't need it, but he wasn't going to pretend that the cold was why he didn't want to get out of the car. He wanted to have dinner with Steve, and the lunch they'd had the day before proved to Will that he wasn't overly awkward socializing with Steve.

Will _had_ enjoyed it, which would have scared him if Steve wasn't so reassuring in many ways.

He could eat at the restaurant. It wouldn't be like the other times. He wouldn't drift and take in everyone in the room, just so he didn't... absorb the other person's frustration with him and start snapping at his date.

And it was, Will realized, a date.

A _date_.

Did Steve know he'd made a date?

Probably not. He couldn't recall seeing Steve carrying flowers, and he seemed the type. Possibly.

Will pulled his car from a crawl to a stop. The driver behind him didn't waste any time in leaning on his horn, but Will simply lowered his head onto the steering wheel and took a few deep breaths.

Steve had asked him out on a date!

* * *

The dogs were on the couch, was Will's first thought. The second thought was that _he_ was curled up on the couch, his couch at home, and most definitely not in the car in front of a restaurant convincing himself to park.

He pushed himself up. "Where... H-How?"

"I drove you." Steve appeared from the kitchen, in a white t-shirt with a tea-towel flung over his shoulder. "You seemed a little dazed and you were mumbling to yourself."

"What was I saying?" Will asked; his voice shaky.

"You said you were a bad date, and said something about chickening out of prom. Then you started listing every date you've been on and ever person you've ever liked and what you think went wrong. It was all your fault, apparently," he took a step further into the room and crouched carefully in front of Will, looking up with his blue eyes. "You also said you were deserved to be alone, which I disagree with."

"I-I don't remember any of that."

Will blinked down at Steve, wondering where his glasses had gone, and jumped when a warm palm was pressed to his forehead.

"I don't think you don't have a fever."

"That's comforting."

"Maybe I should get a thermometer to be sure."

"Maybe..." Will felt himself slump as the hand moved from his brow to his cheek. "Maybe I should call someone. Maybe make an appointment for another MRI... o-or with my psychiatrist."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Not much." He admitted. "There's too much to worry about."

Steve nodded. "I think it might just be stress, I've seen in it soldiers before, but if you want to go to a hospital I'd be happy to take you."

Will brought a hand up, letting it hover over Steve's before gently removing the appendage from his cheek. "Don't you need to be going to New York?" There was a distinctively bitter note in his voice, but Steve didn't flinch.

"You weren't gone for very long, and I can always skip the Amtrak and catch an early morning flight if you need me here."

His eyes flickered to the man crouched in front of him, taking in his sincerity and concern. "No," He decided, quietly, "I don't want you to be late, and I'll be fine. I just need a good night's sleep."

Steve nodded, although it was clear that he didn't believe the ex-detective, which caused Will to pull away slightly and move back into the couch. He realized that he still had his hand wrapped around Steve's and, not wanting him to get the wrong idea and think he was needing support, let the appendage go.

He swallowed the urge to apologize, not wanting to draw attention to the action.

"I have dinner," Steve hesitantly suggested, "since we didn't get to eat. If you're hungry," he flushed slightly, "and it's not very fancy."

Will wasn't particularly hungry, but he supposed he should eat because he hadn't had much throughout the day and he couldn't help but smile at the helpful look on Steve's face. He agreed to follow the soldier through the house to consume whatever Steve had managed to create from the meagre contents of Will's cupboards.

He normally ate in the kitchen but there was not enough room on the small kitchen bench for two people.

Steve led him to the dinning-room where there was a table in the middle of the space with two chairs. Normally they'd be pushed up against the window and used as a desk, but the papers which had previously adorned it were stacked carefully on the corner armchair. The plates were set up around one of Will's pots, which was sitting on the wooden chopping board in the centre.

"I did a little shopping while you were asleep on the couch. I didn't go very far, just the little store down the road. Did you know the owner's daughter got a scholarship to Harvard?"

"No, I didn't."

Steve started placing a few small bowls around the table. "She must be brilliant. He's so proud of her."

Will smiled at the other man's enthusiasm as he moved towards the table. It was a scene normally too domestic for him to connect to, but Steve's conviction and warmth relaxed him as he took a seat.

Steve, rather than sitting opposite him like they would on a date, sat next to Will around the corner of the table, so they were closer, but weren't in each other's direct eye line. It was a much more casual position, and he didn't know whether the soldier did it deliberately or not, but was thankful.

"What's this?" he asked, while looking at the neatly chopped and roasted vegetable chunks in the bowls. Clearly, for Steve to have driven them both home, gone shopping and make a roast, Will had been out of it for longer than had been implied.

Clearing his throat, Steve looked away, embarrassed. "It's something an old friend suggested I try; Fondue." He gestured to the cooking pot in the centre, "I hadn't had a chance to try it because it's meant for more than one person and I..." he flushed deeper, "I haven't had anyone I wanted to try it with before."

"Oh. T-Thank you?"

Steve looked up and beamed. "I hope it's nice."

Will stretched his neck up to see the steaming cheese in the middle of the pot, and grabbed one of the wooden skewers, feeling eager to eat despite his dampened appetite. It was a much simpler than the dinners he had eaten with Hannibal, but somehow, the effort Steve had gone to in order to make this dish for Will meant more to him than the elaborate four course meals that were the Psychiatrist's custom.

"You really didn't have to go to so much trouble."

Steve shrugged "I like cooking, and it won't poison you, at least."

Chuckling slightly, Will stuck a piece of the broccoli. He could remember an old dinner set his aunt'd had that included specialized forks for this kind of meal. "Are they going to stay on the skewers."

Steve deflated slightly "I don't know."

Will gently circled the vegetable in the cheese and smiled as he raised it, watching the ribbons of pale gold. "Looks good," he complimented.

The joyous, yet bashfully hidden, expression reappeared and Will felt a tight hold loosen in his chest.

He might, he decided, actually be able to do this.

* * *

"I don't mind doing it."

"You cooked," Will scolded softly, "So it's only fair that I clean up."

"At least let me dry."

Steve took up a position next to Will and started drying the plates that the smaller man had set aside on the drying rack. They stood almost shoulder to shoulder and he could feel the heat of the soldier's body next to him through the cool air. It reminded him of sitting in the living room next to the fire, except his hands were elbow deep in a sink that he had sterilized a dozen times to try and remove the memory attached to it.

Dinner had been relaxed. Surprisingly more relaxed than the picnic lunch had been.

Will had been worried about his lost time, but he was almost sure that it had simply been an episode of anxiety coupled with being tired. He hoped, however, that it hadn't just become a habitual response to stress.

He would make an appointment for an MRI as soon as he could. If it was something physical maybe they could catch it earlier this time.

Knowing that he hadn't done anything that would repeat on him later, and that Steve had looked after him, made him feel much better and, maybe, a little bit worse. He didn't need a babysitter and he didn't want Steve thinking he needed constant supervision, even though that didn't feel like that was what Steve was doing.

Will blinked as the plate he was washing was gently tugged out of his hands. He had, he realized, been scrubbing it for a while.

"I think that one's clean." Steve said slowly.

"Right."

Will picked up the next dish and watched Steve watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"Tonight was okay, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Will said, quickly "Or... the parts of it I remember."

Steve nodded and placed an arm on Will's arm, just below where the plaid shirt was rolled to his elbows. "Actually, I'd like to ask you something about that, if I may."

His heart sunk slightly. "Yeah." He focused back on the bubbles around his fingers, keeping his eyes on the plates, "Sure."

"When you were talking about the... the people you've had relationships with, you talked about Alana. Is that the same Alana I met before?"

It took a moment for Will to answer, so unsure about why Steve was asking and what he could have possibly said about her and his relationship. He hoped he hadn't mentioned why she hadn't want to be with Will. Even though he was not the most stable person, and it would not have skipped over Steve's notice, he didn't want to give the blond any reason not to want to be around him.

It was still quite baffling to Will why Steve was still there with him, all things considered.

"I don't remember what I said. But, yes, probably," He took a breath, "We liked each other, but it wasn't a good idea. We weren't... _compatible_."

"Do you want to be compatible with her?"

He passed over a dish without looking at the other man, "Not anymore." He scrubbed, "Can I ask you a similar question?"

"Of course," there was a clear frown and question in his voice.

"Who's the woman in the compass?" He asked quickly, before he could back out. Then, in the silence that followed, decided to clarify. "Your compass from the war. I saw a video of you back then, and you had a compass..."

"With a photo of Peggy in it. I had forgotten about that; they hadn't been able to salvage it from the crash site." Steve set the plate down on the bench and rested his hands on either side or it, bracing himself against the surface. Will noticed the plate hadn't been dried properly. "She's gone, just like everyone else."

Will nodded. He could remember the last time Steve had mentioned Peggy the human; how he had talked about someone who had chosen him for the super-soldier project.

He knew that naming his dog after her was simply a way to keep the memory of someone important close to him, when he had no other way to. It was also clear that people recognizing him beyond being Captain America was important, and if she was part of how he was chosen then he must have felt that she didn't like him because of the experiment's after-effects and his resulting reputation.

She must have, then, meant a lot to him.

"She meant a lot to you."

Steve nodded. "She was everything I thought I wanted. She was amazing, but I was so focused on the war and Hydra that I don't think I..." he paused to find the words, "_got around_ to thinking about a relationship with her. Not properly, anyway. I just assumed that after the war, she would be there and I could allow myself to be attracted to her but then... Well..."

Swallowing tightly, Will nodded. "I'm sorry."

He felt Steve's shoulders brush his as the taller man shrugged. "She met and married a good man after I was gone. It's hard to regret what happened when her life worked out for the best. I think... I think I liked the idea of her, but never got the chance to get to know her enough to love her."

It was clear to Will that Steve believed her life had been better without him in it. It didn't necessarily mean, however, that Steve wasn't mourning her and what they could have had. The 'idea' of her was something that probably would always have a question about it. There was no way of knowing whether, once they were done fighting, they could have made a good life for themselves.

Will thought Steve was selling himself short, that she wouldn't have lived a worse life had she been with Steve.

But he understood that it was something Steve may have needed to tell himself.

He took a breath in the silence and placed a soapy hand on top of Steve's, without looking at the other man. It rested wet and rigid on top of the warm flesh and mustn't have felt very comforting. Will couldn't bring himself to remove the appendage once it had been placed there, almost as if his touch was magnetized.

Steve didn't respond and, while the silence wasn't uncomfortable, it did seem to stretch.

It took a few minutes for Will to realize that Steve was waiting for a response. It was Will who had asked the question, and the hand beneath his was not tense because of the soapy state of Will's own, but rather that he was trepidatious about the reaction of the smaller man.

Will blinked up at Steve from behind his glasses. The blond was looking at Will's hand like he expected it to retreat back into the soap bubbles at any moment, but he seemed to appreciate the gesture.

As he wasn't usually the one trying to seek eye-contact, Will wasn't quite sure how to make Steve meet his gaze.

He moved his hand from Steve's, trembling slightly as it rose and brushed against the far side of the soldier's strong jaw, towards the chin and moving Steve's head in his direction.

Will froze when blue eyes landed on him and all his plans to try and depart some words of comfort left. He felt his eyelids blink stupidly for a moment before closing completely.

He hadn't even noticed himself moving forward until his lips met Steve's. They were warm, which was no longer surprising him all of the man seemed to be warm, but it was very comforting to be pressed against, especially when the lips started to respond.

Will held his hands up awkwardly, as he didn't want to get the soapy water on Steve's clothes, but the bigger man turned his body towards him and pulled them closer together. He did feel slightly like he had been the one caught off guard, with his hands held up in the air and no real memory of how he had gone from wanting to comfort Steve to making a move to kiss him.

Slowly, he lowered his hand from head height to hang loosely at his sides, leaning his body against the broad chest and slowly guiding Steve's lips to move in tandem with his.

There was no release of pent up energy as Will had been suspecting. There was no strong, quick burn of passion that there had been between him and Alana. Instead, there was a quiet hesitancy in Steve's movements, and a strange level of care that Will wasn't sure had anything to do with him and all to do with the soldier being unsure with himself.

It occurred to Will that Steve's apprehension may not being because he didn't want Will, but because he wasn't sure _how_.

Will pulled back, his breath hitching at the sudden loss of warmth and sweet taste.

"Are you okay? Is this... okay?"

Steve took a long shaky exhale. "It's just that I never thought I could want this. I mean..." he closed his eyes. "I know this century is different. I just didn't think it would make _me_ different."

Will nodded, not wanting to correct Steve, but he wanted to make sure he wasn't forcing the 40s man. "Is this enjoyable?"

"Yes. I enjoy spending time with you." He smiled shyly, "And I was enjoying the kissing."

"That's good." Will moved in and kissed Steve again, noticing how the other man's shoulders were slightly more relaxed, and a large hand came up to cup Will's rough jaw before they parted again.

The profiler took a step back out of Steve's reach, deciding that he didn't trust himself so close to the other man. He managed to keep eye contact, trying to convey that it wasn't a rejection, just a cautionary move for self-protection. "When do you have to leave for New York?"

Steve's face dropped slightly, he had clearly forgotten that he had to go. He looked at his watch. "I can stay for a few hours, but then I should call a cab, go get my bike from the restaurant and head to the airport."

"I can drive you to your bike, so don't worry about a cab."

He turned back to the bench and the dishes. "Thank you."

Will studied Steve's profile for a moment before he placed a hand on the lower part of Steve's back. His normal avoidance for physical contact seemed to be replaced by a need to feel the warmth of Steve's body. "I know you have to go, but if we have a few hours here..."

"I..." Steve looked back over him, the line between his eyes telling more about his concern than shaking voice. "I've never..."

"That's okay, that's not really what I was asking for." He said with a hint of amusement. "I can dig up the T.V. and we can watch a movie. We can just stick with kissing, since we both enjoy it so much."

Smiling, Steve leaned down to kiss Will, but hovered, as if asking for permission from the man who had instigated the previous contact. It caused Will to chuckle and an honest smile to grace his lips before he used them to claim the other man's as theirs.

For a moment, with Steve's taste on his mouth, and heat of his body warming his smaller one, Will felt more connected to the moment than he could ever remember being.

It was eight, fifty-something p.m. He was William Peter Graham, he was in Wolf Trap, Virginia...

And life was... _okay_.


End file.
